48 pany were wasted, symptomatic of Sam's failure to be absolutely (inhu- manly) responsible. Responsibtlity is a favorite word of Jenny's lately, and separation is another . You have no sense of, and Maybe we ought to think ab out. Sam lit a match and held it to a cigarette, though cigarettes were something he'd almost given up. San- doval was hobbling across the yard, his fedora tilted to the back of his head, his unshaven jaw exposed to the sun. The edges of his eyes were red and inflamed, the lids sly and deeply arched. His hat and his breath both smelled old. He fished a cigarette from the bib of his overalls. Sam stood up for him, and they shared the match, and calmly smoked. "I'll do it," Sam promised. "I'll get him for you." W HEN the school bus stopped, Naranjos's blind mare hooked her big dusty head over the fence so the passing children could stroke her nose. Late last year Jenny and Sam's mailbox had been shot by someone driving by, and now that it was fall the wasps that were everywhere searching out niches had climbed in through the bullet holes. Sam sprayed the inside of the mailbox, slammed its door, and then he and Jenny ran. Wasps threaded out through the bul- let holes and waited-a dozen wasps, two dozen, their abdomens jerking in rage. "Is the wind this way?" Jenny asked She didn't want to breathe it; she thought she was pregnant. She hadn't told Sam, though if he'd been anything except entirely self-absorbed he would have guessed it by now-she had even stopped drinking coffee. Last week, she'd taken the little jar into town, to her gynecologist's office, and he was supposed to call tomorrow morning early, but Jenny already knew what he would tell her. The wasps drifted from the mailbox; it was hard to tell if they were flying or had been blown away. Sam said, "It can't hurt you. It hasn't hurt them." To Jenny he sounded disappointed. "Maybe they'll come back and you can kill them over again." This was cheering, and he agreed, "Maybe," swinging the spray can as they walked back up the road, pausing for the old man, who was leaning against a tree; by the innocence in his face, Jenny knew they'd been am- bushed. The tree was another thing r YK' ? " - & 'y -1> ' : ,/- . :.,,:," "..... · :h> > ' : . - ,:#'.' I \ <>" '" . II ; I. :' if 1 I ..go :1=$ '.. "<'":.... ' , \ ,( JL . \ ", '/.. ;. \ J_ " th " . . . on e avenue. . . , . . -+( " I _ 1 Ú'-- I r - '/ ,.- ' . { \..... ;?'... .J' . ,_ v ,. h_' '.v ,,;:__, ",,:;:;' I fñF1"- ' lf1U' ,i-4 , \, : : ;v5.: f ' " th " . . . on e avenue. . . that the old man had mutilated in pruning, but it appeared to have for- given him, and bore apples in hard, sman hundreds. There were none left now, and Jenny wondered where they'd gone; certainly he'd given few enough to them. She had a reason to like Sandoval, because he had signed the grant of easement that had finally cleared the title of their house to the bank's satisfaction, but her gratitude had been whittled away each time her husband disappeared to run the old man's errands. Sam clapped Sandoval between the shoulder blades as he hunched over, coughing into a rag of handkerchief; he cleared his throat and croaked, "Good, good, gracias, hito," as if his life had been saved. You old actor, Jenny thought; you old cheat. "Hito" was a word that couldn't fail to move Sam, but all the affection went one way-it went from Sam to the old man. She leaned her cheek against Sam's back, so that he was between her and Sandoval, be- cause sometimes she had the uncanny sensation that Sandoval knew exactly what she was thinking. His voice re- . . verberating through his own shoulder, Sam told the old man what time to expect him tonight (What time to ex- pect him tonight?), and Sandoval limped away through his dwarfed trees. Jenny knew he was old, he was alone, and it was wrong to resent whatever use he made of Sam, but Jenny knew a number of troublesome truths that seemed to have only negli- gible influence on her emotions. She knew it should be simple to make up with Sam, and she knew she had a very good reason to try, and she would -she would try, if only things be- tween them hadn't locked into a pat- tern so stubbornly wrong, which had not, any of it, been her fault. T HE mattress rocked as Sam got out of bed, and, asleep, Jenny said, "What?" "Me," he whispered into her hair. It took him annoyingly long to dress, because he needed warm work clothes and couldn't remember where they were. On the bureau he found a billed cap and tugged it on, and then he lifted long johns from the floor and, from a corner, Levi's that were